The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 01 - I died that day

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I loved him even as he thrust his sword right through me. 

"Raine Stjorme, Nightshade Concubine, and Princess of Drakfjord... I, Sylvos Thorne, Emperor of Thornmont, Sovereign of Fayndor, and wielder of Briarvex... sentence thee to die."

With those cruel words, he yanked Briarvex from my stomach, the sword's intricately carved blade glistening with my blood. I sank to my knees, my black and silver gown quickly drenched in crimson.

The entire inner court had gathered in the throne room — including all 100 concubines. It was an assembly I had imagined would herald my coronation as Empress. Yet, it became painfully clear that I was the only one mistaken.

My hands shakily clutched my stomach.

"How... how could you?" I whispered.

After praying for so long to be blessed... 

Tears blurred my vision as I gazed up at Sylvos, my heart breaking anew.

Black eyes that had once gazed at me with love now burned with hollow resentment. His silver hair, which I had caressed only days before, was now crowned with jagged metal, a cruel reminder of the authority he wielded over me.

"How could you?" I cried louder, my voice breaking with betrayal. "I bear your child! Why would you slay your own heir when fate had denied you of any for so long?"

A shrill, haunting laughter echoed through the vast throne room, chilling the air.

My attention snapped to the silver throne, a grotesque seat of jagged spikes and gnarled vines that thrust upward like a crooked claw.

From the shadows beside the chair, Isolde stepped forward, a sinister grace in her movements. Like me, she wore a flowing black gown that marked her as a Nightshade Concubine. Yet hers was embellished with bronze trimmings that glinted wickedly, complementing her fiery red hair.

"You wish for His Majesty to believe the child you carry is his?" she snickered, her voice dripping with malice.

"Of course!" I insisted, my hands clutching my stomach as I fought to stem the flow of blood. Each ragged breath scraped like shards of ice against my lungs.

"Liar," she sneered, her eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Ser Kaelan Blanc has already confessed that the child is his."

"What?!"

Disbelief clawed at my throat as I turned back to Sylvos. On my knees, I grasped his black boot, praying he could see the truth reflected in my eyes.

"Sylvos... please. You must believe me; this is not true! I have only ever loved you! I have been faithful only to you!"

Tears streamed down my face, and my hands grew colder, more ghostly with each passing moment. But there was no warmth in the emperor's gaze. Not even a flicker of sympathy.

He kicked me away, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Your disgrace has not only sealed your own ruin but that of your entire family. Come dawn, the Stjorme monarchy shall find their heads adorning my throne."

The court erupted in laughter, their delight echoing off the cold stone walls at their ruler's promise. With those cruel words, the last vestiges of my strength crumbled into a thousand shards. I stared blankly at my bloodied hands, the very hands that had clawed their way from the bottom of his harem to attain the coveted Nightshade rank.

What had it all been for? Why had I prayed each night for the blessing of a child that seemed impossible? Why did I love him, knowing the darkness of his cruel heart... the creatures he'd chained... and the wars he waged...